


The Next Step Forward

by Jade_Dragoness



Series: Another Road [2]
Category: Royal Pains
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But fun, Community: hc_bingo, Community: longfic_bingo, Dmitry Vasilyev - Freeform, Eating Disorder, First Time, Hank's Nightmares are a thing, M/M, POV Alternating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, With Minor Season 5 spoilers, Writing Boris POV is Hard!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_Dragoness/pseuds/Jade_Dragoness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank arrives at Shadow Pond and his relationship with Boris grows faster than either expects and hits a couple of bumps along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for longfic_bingo prompt: eating disorder & hc_bingo prompt: post traumatic stress disorder.
> 
> Um... I meant to have this ready last month. But the last season forced me to go back and revise a bit. Then the halfway point I'd thought I'd had written turned out to be closer to the quarter mark. Argh.

Boris let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding when he saw Dr. Hank Lawson coming out of the glass double doors of his brother’s apartment building, a high rise in Brooklyn. He mentally sent up a silent thanks towards Heaven above. Instantly, it struck Boris how much he had changed since Hank had come into his life and not just by the fact that through his actions he'd saved it. For nearly twenty-three years, Boris had ceased to express his gratitude to whom he’d thought had been an uncaring deity, that he did so now? Showed him another element of his life in which Hank had managed to irrevocably change.

Peter, one of his bodyguards, who’d been waiting for the signal of Hank’s arrival to open the door of Boris’ armored town car, did so with alacrity. Boris stepped out of the black vehicle, straightening the suit jacket, smoothing out his plum-colored tie from Windsor knot to the buttons of the jacket in a nervous tick he’d thought he’d managed to shed over a decade ago. 

The last time he’d felt this nervous over another person… well, it had been years and an island ago.

Hank’s blue eyes flickered towards him. Delight spread across his face and the smile he turned towards Boris was blinding. 

Yet the brightness of his smile wasn’t enough to fade out the deep bruise-like shadows under Hank’s eyes. The sight of them made Boris’ breath catch in his throat, before he swallowed his worry away and smiled back at Hank. Seeing the evidence of how badly Hank was dealing with three years of traveling to impoverished countries was difficult to bear considering all the emotions the man evoked in him. But… it wasn’t the first time Boris had seen the effects of deep emotional distress. When he’d been suffering with a similar condition, he’d returned to Shadow Pond, and had spent every summer there from that dreadful time until the present. 

The home built by his grandfather had brought him safety and sanity when he’d been nearly without both. Boris hoped Shadow Pond would work the same magic for Hank.

“Boris,” Hank called out, smiling as he walked over to him. He also greeted Boris’ bodyguards with nods and a friendly smile. To Boris’ surprise, his security specialists, four men who’d always ignored Boris’ personal guests in order to keep their eyes open for threats, nodded back in respectful acknowledgment and then, even more startling, they shifted the diamond grind pattern to include Hank in their protection. Hank didn’t notice, but Boris, long used to the protective behavior of his bodyguards eyed them thoughtfully before dismissing the mystery as currently unimportant –although he would be asking questions at a later date– and focused his attention on Hank.

“Do you have all you need?” Boris asked curiously. Hank was carrying a large faded gray duffel bag over his shoulder and a worn and battered tan leather medical bag in his other hand. Boris found it difficult to believe that was all the luggage which Hank would want to bring for the summer.

“In the last few years I've learned to travel light,” Hank explained.

“Ah,” Boris said in understanding and made a mental note to see to it that Hank had to opportunity to expand his wardrobe.

David quietly offered to put the duffel in the trunk and Hank thanked him as the man took it away. Peter opened the car door for them. Boris and Hank quickly settled in. The driver acknowledged Boris’ nod by starting the car as soon as Peter joined him in the front, while the rest of bodyguards split to the two other decoy town cars which were parked nearby.

Boris caught Hank's hand with his own, holding it firm. To his mute delight his actions made Hank's smile widened. 

“You know, I feel I've got to warn you about something,” Hank said after a moment as they were well into New York traffic, his expression was apologetic.

Boris' heart leaped with worry. Entrenched habit of keeping his enemies from reading him kept him from expressing the worry in his body language or tone. “If you're about to admit you snore, then you can rest assured that I'm a rather deep sleeper,” Boris said lightly.

“What? No,” Hank startled, laughing, “I don't snore. At least, no one's ever said I do...” Hank trailed off, before he shook his head. “No, it's my brother: Ethan. He knows I'll be at the Hamptons and he _loves_ the Hamptons with a passion, a deep and crazy passion.” He spread his hands, moving Boris' own along with him. “I have no doubt that he'll start asking to visit. Or he'll just show up right out of the blue. So if a skinny guy who sort of looks like a less handsome version of me turns up on your doorstep, please don't have him shot. No matter how annoying he gets.”

Relieved that the situation was so minor, Boris agreed at once.

Later, when Evan R. Lawson showed up at Shadow Pond, Boris would regret being so hasty in his promise although he would never have cause to feel remorse over happy smile it had earned him from Hank that morning.

*-*-*-*

Hank had been in several helicopters over the course of his life. Being a doctor meant he'd ridden in medical air transport for emergencies and since he signed up to work with Doctors Without Borders he'd been airlifted to some remote areas without working roads or out of dangerous situations which were about to boil over. He'd never actually been in one while feeling so relaxed that he actually got to enjoy the ride. Apparently knowing that the destination wouldn't end in work made all the difference.

Boris leaned closer to him and pointed towards Hank's left. The ear protection they were all wearing with the microphone and speakers, hissed with static before Hank heard Boris say loud enough be heard over the rushing wind and rotor blades, “There, that's my home. Shadow Pond.”

For a second, Hank enjoyed the warm press of Boris' side against him before he followed the direction of his pointer finger. When he finally saw Boris' summer home, he was honestly taken aback. Even knowing that Boris had a lot of money, size of the place was rather mind-blowing. Hank didn't even realize that homes came in such a size that even calling it a mansion seemed be a big understatement. Yeah, he had the feeling that it was less house and more of a castle.

Fascinated, Hank leaned over to get a closer look as the helicopter took a run right over the large estate. The pilot flew so close that trees and shrubs were whipped by the rotor driven winds driven. Upon getting closer, Hank could see that not only was Shadow Pond impressive in sheer size but it was also beautiful. Elegant.

“It's gorgeous,” Hank shouted into the microphone, smiling at Boris.

Boris' return smile was small but sincere with pleasure at the compliment. “You are welcome to it all.”

*-*-*-*

For all that Boris considered himself to be a very private person, obsessively so as he'd been accused from more than one _former_ acquaintance, he was deeply proud of his Hamptons estate and this was why he held a yearly partly there whenever he arrived at the Hamptons for the summer. Even the unfortunate incident with the supermodel who'd become nearly fatally ill three years ago hadn't marred his pride for Shadow Pond. So he thought his enthusiasm in showing Hank his home was understandable including why he didn't notice that Hank was flagging barely half-way through the tour. 

They were alone. Two of Boris' bodyguards remained out of eyesight but within earshot, while the rest of his security detail set out to reestablish a perimeter, to evaluate the estates permanent staff, and to see to the other security matters which came into play when Boris returned to the estate. 

Boris had just opened the glass doors which led to his favorite part of the gardens, explaining how the garden designs had been incorporated from multiple designs among which were French and Moroccan, when Hank had paled and stumbled

“Hank!” Boris cried out in alarm, reacting quickly and catching Hank in his arms. Hank's expression was tight and his skin was pale.

“I'm alright,” Hank said at once, as clutched as Boris shoulders. He straightened his buckled knees and shakily stood up.

Boris was abruptly aware of the feel of Hank's body against his. Involuntarily, he tightened his hold on the other man. Hank stared up at him and suddenly they were both very conscious of how close they were to each other. How little distance they had between them and how it still felt like too much.

They were lost in that moment, locked on each other, until Boris' guards burst in and the moment was broken.

The ex-Mossad guards had been drawn by Boris' shout, with their hands holding handguns with the barrels pointed downward as a safety measure until the situation could be addressed. Boris dismissed them with a sharply spoken code phrase which indicated a false alarm. They melted back out of sight with little more than a quick assessing glance.

Boris was unwilling to loosen his hold in case Hank's recovery was only temporary, urged the other man to the patio furniture which was only a few steps away from the doors to the house. But even as Hank sank down into the cushion, Boris found himself reluctant to step back, and kept a grip on Hank's wrist. 

“I'm alright,” Hank repeated, the color already returning to his face. To Boris' surprise he looked embarrassed. “I just probably need to eat something. My blood sugar must have dropped.”

Boris frowned as he considered this. None of the sources which he'd used to run the background check on the doctor had uncovered any sort of medical condition. Hank Lawson had been incredibly healthy over the course of his life.

“Nothing's wrong,” Hank said, reading Boris' expression correctly to his own consternation. 

He'd been relaxing his guard down more than he'd realized around the other man but in hindsight it was not so surprising. Boris trusted Hank with a depth that was nearly frightening considering the short time since they'd been acquainted. It was outside of Boris' personal experience to have developed such a bond to another person so quickly. Even... even the last time Boris had felt such overpowering emotions for another.... it had taken time. It had taken months of close contact for his feels to grow. 

This time around it appeared that his heart had already gotten away from him, and gone right into the hands of Hank, if he wanted to follow this metaphor through to its natural conclusion.

“I – I just didn't have breakfast this morning,” Hank said, breaking into Boris' thoughts and forcing his contemplation away for another time.

Boris sat in the patio chair closest to Hank. “Hank... ”

“I wasn't feeling hungry,” Hank sighed. “I haven't been feeling hungry for a while.”

“You're underweight,” Boris observed. The flush of worry he'd felt at the sight of the Hank this morning returned like a growling animal with razor fangs inflicting stabs of fear. “And you haven't been sleeping.” 

After a beat of silence, Hank nodded.

“I know you returned to home at the recommendation of your supervisor,” Boris continued in the same soft tone. “Although the reason wasn't clear to my investigator.”

“Yeah,” Hank admitted. “Charlie wanted to give me some time off before he filed an official report. Which was pretty great of him, actually.”

“Hank, what's wrong?” Boris asked, the fear turning into lead weight in his stomach. He loathed feeling fear. It brought back memories of the days of watching his father's last days. It reminded him of his helplessness at facing what he'd thought had been his fatal illness. At least until the man sitting before him had saved him.

And now, Boris would do anything for him.

“I've been in some pretty bad situations over the last couple of years but the last month before I came back...” Hank's jaw twitched and he looked away from Boris and out the cultivated gardens. The afternoon sun reflected off the ponds, making the water shimmer. 

“It was... it wasn't the most horrible thing I've seen but... it was just too much,” Hank continued slowly, as if trying to find the correct words. “A family I knew. A family I'd treated... They were killed.” Hank swallowed and he shook his head rapidly. “I was the one who found them, afterward. And now I seems I can't get past that. They came back to me in my dreams. Remembering... kinda kills my appetite.”

Although, Boris had suspected the truth, having his suspicions confirmed did nothing to assuage his worry. The confirmation did dispel the fear. Boris found himself even more determined to do anything possible in order to provide assistance to Hank's recovery.

“So I kinda forgot to eat this morning... and last night,” Hank admitted.

“Then I believe it's time we break for lunch, ja?” Boris asked.

Hank looked back at him with his blue eyes startled wide. 

To Boris, it made him look young, vulnerable and achingly innocent. And although Hank was a grown man, at the moment, Boris wished for nothing less than to protect him from the evils of the world. The same evils which as left Hank in this distraught state. Boris had confidence that his influence and money would be able to accomplish this task with ease. 

He stood up and help out his hand. “Let me show you my favorite place to dine when the weather permits.”

Hank smiled as he also stood up and grasped his hand. He shot Boris a surprised glance when, instead of heading back into the house, Boris turned and led him out into the gardens.

*-*-*-*

As impressive as Hank found Shadow Pond, he found himself more taken by its owner. Over lunch, Hank learned more about Boris than he had from trying to find out more about the man online. Such as the fact that Boris was a polyglot. Not only knowing German and English but also Spanish, French, Hebrew and Mandarin. Hank was nearly certain the man was learning other languages since he only admitted to mastery over those. 

The topics on Boris remained light, at least initially. Hank would've probably found it frustrating considering how much background detail the man had uncovered on him if it wasn't for the fact that Boris was _awkward_ when talking about himself. Hank remembered what the bodyguards had said about Boris being an intensely private person, so that he was trying... meant a lot. He clearly wasn't used to sharing personal details and that struggle to get past his reticence just _charmed_ Hank. If he'd had any doubts about the sincerity behind Boris' interest in him... well, Hank was pretty secure in that before this conversation since Boris had come back after the two weeks, but it was still pretty amazing to get confirmation. 

During a comfortable lull in the conversation, as the kitchen staff brought out yet another course, Hank found himself thinking on a question that had been hovering at the corners of his mind since he saw Shadow Pond from the helicopter.

“Boris, what made you decide to live at Shadow Pond?” Hank asked, glancing over to the face of the building which he could see from where he sat before turning back to look at Boris. “I know you said its a family home. And it's a great place but you're one man... and that's one _very_ big house? Doesn't it get lonely?” Hank tilted his head as he watched Boris' reaction to his question.

Boris' expression become somber. 

“You don't have to tell me,” Hank said hastily, not wanting to pressure the man. 

“No, I wish you to know,” Boris said, leaning back. “It is a complicated story, it doesn't begin happily...”

Hank listened with a fascination as Boris hesitantly explained how he'd inherited his family fortunate upon the death of his father when he was young and how his father's estate had also come with the circling cousins who'd began pressuring him about naming an heir. Of how he'd learned about the his branch's family illness from a particularly vile second cousin. 

Boris had been aware of his father's failing health for a couple of years, although he'd always tried to keep Boris from seeing the effects on him. Yet, Boris had grown up thinking it had been an illness which his father had contracted. Until his cousin had told him that his grandfather had died the same way, as well as his great-grandfather. Three generations.

Boris had been a young man just out of his teens and learning about a death sentence which would have him in the grave by his mid-forties. 

“Young men of such years live as if they are immortal,” Boris said, his tone bleak. “I was too aware of the Sword of Damocles which hung over me.”

Hank couldn't help but reach out to him. He honestly had no idea how anyone could do that to another person. For what? Money? Oh, Hank wasn't naive, he knew that there were people with warped and greedy desires, but to do that to your own family. It still boggled Hank's mind. 

And... it made him feel like doing whatever he could to protect Boris. He really liked the guy. He suspected that even if their developing relationship didn't get far then Boris would be a good friend.

Hank squeezed Boris hand. Boris' smile was small but appreciate as he clasped Hank's hand in his own.

“I had to leave. New York City was an excellent location due to the presence of various business interests in the city,” Boris continued. His expression hardening and with a voice full of contempt he said, “But its most attractive feature was that it was an ocean away from my relatives.”

“Was New York better?” Hank asked.

“Nein, no, not at first. I was too... enraged. I did not deal very well with the revelation,” Boris said, looking down at his plate, his broad hands smoothing out the white linen tablecloth with jerky movements before stilling. “It took weeks before I was able to deal with another human being with any sort of civility for brief periods of time. I went through a rather... unpleasant period before happenstance brought me to the Hamptons. A friend has a home here. He brought me to distract me. I went to several parties that first week, when someone asked me if I intended to settle back into Shadow Pond for the summer. I remembered that I used to have several delightful summers at Shadow Pond when I had been young. All those memories...”

Hank stared at him, fascinated by the play of emotion crossing Boris' face. 

“When I walked through the grounds and the house it was as if my concerns faded away. It was like being home, something I had not felt in a long time,” Boris continued. 

Hank swallowed, and he nodded jerkily. “I understand.” And he honestly did. The last time he had that same feeling, of being safe at home had been shortly before his fiance walked out.

It's been years since he'd felt the same.

“No matter how far travel or where I am, I always come back to Shadow Pond,” Boris said softly. 

Hank pushed back the plate in front of him as he stood up. He held out his right hand to Boris. “Show me the rest of it?” Hank beckoned him with the hand. 

Boris frowned. “Are you sure?” he asked with concern. “You haven't eaten much.”

“I've eaten enough for now. Come on. Lunch won't go anywhere. Anyway, my tour was interrupted.”

Victorious, Hank grinned when Boris finally agreed, took and his hand and led him back into large home of Shadow Pond.

*-*-*-*

Boris was pleased when Hank accepted a room near his own instead of choosing to sleep in the guesthouse because it spoke greatly of the man's trust and comfort of being in, what amounted to, a stranger's home.

Other than Hank's near passing out before lunch, Hank had remained healthy and animated for the rest of the day. Boris would have discarded it as an insular episode but since Hank had mentioned his lack of appetite he'd made certain to pass on special orders to the kitchen staff to prevent another such incident from taking place. And so for the rest of the evening the staff had delivered discreet but caloric dense appetizers to them. Boris had watched with quiet satisfaction as Hank had eaten them each time, mostly out of politeness than true hunger, but he'd eaten them. Boris would take the end result. Especially if it meant that Hank would regain that weight which he couldn't afford to lose.

And so Boris had settled in to sleep. His longing to have Hank with him in his bed was the only reason it took longer than usual for his eyelids to grow heavy but it also in turn made his dreams sweeter than he'd had for years.

*-*-*-*

Hank jackknifed upward, gasping for breath and his eyes wide at the horrors playing in his head. He pressed his hand to his mouth to choke back a scream of denial which wanted to tear out. He ground his palms into his eyes as if it would erase the images and settled for burying his face in his hands when his head started to ache. 

He stayed that way for... well, he honestly wasn't sure but it was until he realized that no matter how hard he tried there was no way that he'd be getting back to sleep tonight. Guess, he'll have to settle for only four hours of sleep tonight. The sad thing was that four hours was actually something of an improvement, at least for him. He'd been running on less. Only, he'd had such a good day with Boris today that he'd been hoping to get closer to a full eight hours. 

Hank sighed, turned on the nightstand's lamp and pulled back the covers before climbing out of bed. He stood motionless as he realized he had no idea what to do next. Staying in bed was pointless and the bedroom didn't exactly come with a TV and he'd also forgotten to get the Wi-Fi password from Boris. Aimless, Hank wandered out of the bedroom, and hoped he'd be able to find the huge room with the entertainment center he'd been shown hours ago. 

After getting thoroughly lost – Shadow Pond looked _very_ different at night and in the dark – Hank instead found the swimming pool. Considering the pool room also had a spectacular view of the gardens and the night sky were the full moon was providing enough light to see, Hank thought it a lucky find. Boris had only briefly mentioned the pool in his tour and Hank would never have been able to find it if he'd set out to look for it even in full daylight.

Hank sat down on the edge and was glad he'd worn boxers to sleep because he could dangled his bare legs in the cool water without having to roll up his pant-legs. He stayed there, finding it soothing and slowly, achingly slowly, he relaxed and stopped thinking. Sleep was only just beginning to nip at his heels again when the door which led into the pool room opened. 

Hank turned, expecting one the numerous staff he'd met yesterday with ready explanation on his lips as to why he was there only to be startled by who he saw enter. “Boris?”

“Hank, did you manage to get any sleep?” Boris asked as he walked in, a dark blue robe over his sleeping clothes. 

“Yeah, some. Actually it was better than I've had for a while,” Hank admitted, thoroughly distracted by the sleep-softened vision of the other man. He'd only ever seen Boris in suits, which had always given him an aura of firm control. How he was dressed now.... made Hank wish he'd turned on the lights so that he could get a better look.

“Good...” Boris said, before hesitating. His voice was tight with urgency as he said, “Please, get out of the pool, Hank.” 

“Uh, sure,” Hank said, confused. He stood up shedding water, and leaving a puddle where he stood. He looked at the other man trying to figure out the reason for the odd request. Boris didn't look mad, in fact from what Hank could see under the moonlight, he looked more concerned than anything else. “What's going on?” 

“There is no longer any danger,” Boris explained, as he stepped close enough to grasp Hank's elbow to tug him away from the edge of the pool. Hank followed willingly. “Poison Control discovered the primary location of the thallium had been in the water. Apparently, it is easily absorbed through the skin.”

Hank's eyes widened, and he stopped moving to turn back to look at the innocent looking swimming pool with fresh and horrified eyes as he realized what that meant. “He was making you poison yourself!”

“Yes.” 

Hank could hear the controlled anger in Boris' voice. Boris continued stiffly, “Although, the pool has been thoroughly cleaned of any remaining traces, I'm left with a lingering aversion to enter. Or see others use it.”

“That's understandable, I'm kinda developing an aversion too,” Hank said, stunned. He shook his head and focused his attention back to Boris. “Actually, I'm kind of surprised you didn't just fill it in, pave it over and turn it into a sun-room.”

“I was tempted to,” Boris admitted. “But it was built by my grandfather and so it had more value in place.” Boris expression softened. “And swimming used to be a favorite morning activity, one that I may wish to eventually resume. Lacking a pool would make it difficult.”

Hank smiled. “Yeah.” After a moment of letting Boris lead them to... somewhere a thought struck Hank. “Boris, how did you know where I was?”

“The perimeter guards noted movement in the pool room and called it in to the security center.”

“And they woke you for that? Wait, did you tell them to wake you if I was up?” Hank asked in dismay. He groaned. “Boris.”

“You haven't been sleeping,” Boris explained, as if that was all that he needed.

“There's no reason for you to lose sleep just because of me,” Hank protested.

Boris stopped and turned to face him, they were so close that Hank had to tilt his head to be able to meet his eyes. 

“Hank, if you are not sleeping, then I wish to know,” Boris said intently.

“Boris, my insomnia–” Hank began.

“Is my concern,” Boris said, cutting him off. “Because my concern is for you.” He released his hold on Hank's arm to cup his face with his broad hands. “Do you not yet understand? I care for you greatly, Hank. Seeing you so distressed... I would do anything to end it. Losing sleep is, at most, a minor inconvenience compared to what else I would be willing to do.”

Hank blinked, caught off-guard by the depth of emotion in Boris' voice and his words. He couldn't see the man too clearly in the blued shadows of the halls but the intensity of his gaze felt like the glare of the sun, equally as powerful and unlikely to be swayed by anything Hank said. 

“The same goes for me you know,” Hank whispered back, feeling dizzy with the revelation at how much he'd grown to care for the other man in the span of a day. A bolt of hunger and desire raced down Hank's spine, making him hyper-aware of Boris' body, of his scent, and of the strength in his hands. “Boris,” Hank said thickly. “I want to kiss you now.”

Boris' inhale was surprisingly loud over the pounding of Hank's heart. 

“Ja, yes, si, always,” he breathed out.

Hank stepped closer to Boris until he was pressed firmly against his front, thigh to thigh, and chest to chest.

They met in the space between. Their mouths adjust to each other quickly. Hank has initially jarred by Boris' facial hair having never kissed someone who'd sported any kind of beard or mustache. Hank slid his hands down Boris' back until they settled on his hips. They kissed, and ground against each other until lack of air forced them apart. 

Hank panted, leaning his forehead on Boris' shoulder. Fortunately for his ego, Boris was breathing just as deeply, even as he mouthed at Hank's neck, his beard providing a counter-point to his soft lips that turned Hank on more and more. 

“Okay, okay,” Hank gasped, trying to force his thoughts into some sort of coherence. “Bed, we need a bed.” 

“This is my house, we can do this anywhere,” Boris said, kissing Hank's mouth again. This time it was Hank who held him in place, kissing him eagerly. “My office is near.”

“Okay, yeah, that's fine,” Hank agreed, not really caring. It felt like he'd been hit with a lust bomb and all he could think about was getting his hands on Boris' skin. 

They stumbled as they walked, Boris barely managing to navigate them through the dark halls as he refused to let Hank go. And Hank didn't help with his own unwillingness to release his grip on Boris. Frankly, Hank didn't care that they knocked into antique furnishings and probably damaged some valuable stuff, and possibly even collected a few minor bruises. The only thing he cared about was finding a place private enough that none of the staff or bodyguards would stumble onto them and get an eyeful.

Hank wasn't exactly shy about sex, but he wasn't an exhibitionist either.

The office was fortunately as close as Boris had said, because they were through the doors and on the white couch within a few minutes even with their slow progress and Boris taking a second to turn on one of the table lamps. Hank had managed to remove Boris' robe and left it somewhere on the floor before focusing on unbuttoning the burgundy silk shirt below it. Boris' warm hands slid up and down Hank's back, leaving a sensation which made it that much harder to undo the finicky buttons. 

“Hank,” Boris breathed into his hear. “Lift your arms.” He was already tugging the shirt upwards as Hank finally got the last button undone, revealing Boris' chest. Hank stared, admiring him. Boris clearly took good care of himself because he was well muscled and the silver hair which covered his chest before trailing down his abdomen only enhancing his masculine good looks. 

Then Hank's view was blocked out by his shirt.

“Hey!” Hank made a noise of protest at losing the sexy sight he'd been enjoying, but obligingly raised his arms.

When Hank could finally see him again, Boris' lips were curled up with amusement that became hungrier as he tossed Hank's shirt off to the side. Boris pulled Hank down on top of him. Pressed so close to him, Hank could feel the firmness of the other man's growing erection against his abdomen. He flushed, and pressed closer, shifting his hips so his own cock could press against Boris'. 

“Hank,” Boris groaned, his hips buckled upwards.

“Yeah, Boris?” Hank panted.

“Come here.”

Boris pressed his hand against the back of Hank's neck to pull him down, kissing him firmly. The urgency banked, and Hank settled down kissing him back deeply and passionately. Boris' hand slid down from the nape of his neck and his spine, leaving a trail of sensation behind him that felt like being lit up from the inside out. Hank couldn't have stop the piston of his hips, even if he wanted to. Boris felt so good against him. Boris grasped his hips and ground back up against him. When Boris urged Hank's hips up to pull off his boxers, Hank's breath hitched, and stuttered as Boris grasped his ass.

He pulled back to look down at Boris. “Okay, I can't be the only one naked here,” he said, tugging at the waistband of Boris' pajama pants. The smooth silk felt great but Hank really wanted skin. Hank had to shift off Boris, regretfully releasing him so that the man could strip. They lay back down on the couch on their sides, interlocking their knees so Hank didn't fall off the couch. Hank was grateful that the furniture was wide enough, although just barely, to accommodate two grown men. 

They resumed kissing, rubbing against each other. After several more minutes, Boris pulled back, panting. His puffs of his warm breath felt like caresses against Hank's sensitized skin. Hank took that breather to get more control over himself. He could admit that it'd been a while since he'd had a sexual partner but even he hadn't been expecting to be on such a hair trigger. 

He wanted to revel in this. In Boris. In getting to touch another human being who wanted him.

“The choice of the office may not have been the wisest,” Boris admitted ruefully, his forehead pressing against Hank's even as his manicured fingernails scratched lightly at Hank's sides.

Hank gasped and managed a low and raspy, “Yeah? Because I'm not seeing a drawback here.”

“I keep no supplies here,” Boris explained.

“Doesn't matter,” Hank said after feeling a brief pang of disappointment, his mind already racing a head for an easy solution. He lifted his right hand to his mouth and licked his palms and fingers, coating his digits thoroughly. Then he reached down between them to grasp their erections, and started stroking.

He could feel Boris stop breathing for a long second before abruptly starting up again and groaning Hank's name. Boris settled his left hand over Hank's wrist, sliding down until he was holding Hank's balls. The heat of his palm combined with the firm grip that Hank had on them... it was overwhelming. 

Hank was leaking all over his fist and on Boris, rushing back to that hair-trigger. Then Boris kissed him. They stayed like that, kissing, touching and learning each other. Winding each other up, higher and higher until they broke against each other. 

Leaving both, tired, messy and deeply satisfied. 

It took several minutes, before Hank convinced himself to let the man go. Regretfully, he sat up and reached down for where his shirt lay crumbled next to Boris'. He used it to wipe them down before the semen finished drying. Boris drew him back onto the couch, so that Hank was laying back against him and Boris' arms held him securely. 

“I'm glad you came back after the two weeks,” Hank said.

“And I'm pleased you didn't move on to another,” Boris said, his voice drowsy. 

Hank laughed, surprised and settled against him, wide-awake but even more relaxed than he'd managed in the pool room.

They stayed together in silence until the long windows of Boris' office began to brighten with the rising sun. Hank stirred and sat up, thinking they should get back to their respective bedrooms before the staff started their day.

Then Boris murmured, “Sleep with me.”

Hank turned to shoot him a confused look, before arching his eyebrows. “Thought I just did.”

Boris smiled. “I meant in my bed. Share my bed. You can leave your belongings in the room you have if you'd like, but spend your nights in mine.”

It'd been too long since Hank had shared a bed with someone. A pang of longing shot through him. “Yes,” he said unable to bite back the grin which spread across his face. “I'd really like that.”

Boris stood up and held out a hand to Hank. “Good. Care to join me for breakfast?”

Hank grasped his wrist and used to to leverage himself out of the couch cushions.

“Yeah, you know, I think I've actually worked up an appetite,” Hank said, wonderingly. 

Boris looked even more pleased than before. “Truly?” At Hank's nod his expression became heated. “Then I must do my best to make sure you have a healthy appetite every morning, agreed?”

The hunger for more than just breakfast sparked in Hank's gut. He looked back at Boris appreciatively. “That's sounds like a good plan to me,” he said happily. 

*-*-*-*

Boris watched through the windows of his office as Hank talked with one of his staff. A sous-chef from the kitchen was holding out a silver tray with a plate full of the newest appetizer which had come from the chef of Shadow Pond, Anthony. The chef had been surprisingly enthusiastic at following Boris' order to see that Hank was well fed. He appeared to use it as a means to explore his and his assistants' inventiveness and had taken it as a personal challenge to create various new dishes which would entice Hank's slumbering appetite.

Outside, Hank shook his head clearly trying to protest, only to succumb at the whatever the woman said as she moved the tray closer to him with a hopeful expression. Hank's face light up with laughter as he finally grabbed the utensil on the tray.

Boris reached out to press his fingers against the glass irresistibly drawn by that smile.

In the five days that Hank had been in Shadow Pond, he'd managed to charm every member of the house staff and ground keepers as well as nearly all of Boris' bodyguards. And yet the impact that Hank had on them, although visible, was mild compared to influence he had on Boris himself.

“So, tell me about this doctor,” Dmitry said in Russian, through the cell phone Boris had cradled against his right ear.

“Dima, that's not why I called you,” Boris protested in the same language, as he forced himself to turn away from the window so he could focus on the conversation.

On the other end of the line, Dmitry's laugh was tinny but heartfelt. “First you have my investigators do a background check on this Doctor Hank Lawson while you track down that traitor of yours, and now I find out that you have whisked the man off to Shadow Pond. Your sanctuary! My friend–” the silent _my brother_ reverberated between them like a strummed guitar chord “– can you truly blame me for my curiosity?”

Long established paranoia which had always made him particularly sensitive to his vulnerabilities (that Hank was one now, he couldn't deny) led Boris ask, “How secure is this line?”

There was silence on the other end. “It's that serious, then?”

Boris pressed his hand to his eyes, because he had known the line was secure even before he'd asked. He'd known before he put the call through to Dmitry otherwise he wouldn't have risked it. His question had only served to reveal the truth of his feelings. 

“Boris, are you certain? You have only known the man for a handful of days. Do you honestly believe that his actions to save your life was merely a coincidence and not another tactic by your enemies to break through your defenses?”

While Boris had been fairly certain of Hank's true intentions to save his life from the moment his diagnosis had been confirmed and the antidote administered at the hospital there had remained a lingering seed of doubt. Over the course of his life, Boris had learned the difficult way that good things didn't often happen without cost and nearly never were there coincidences (like the sort which made a doctor notice his failing health, follow him to help and _save_ him) without it being the result of the puppet strings of another. The possibility of his salvation being an elaborate move by his father's family to plant a double agent in his life had occurred to him more than once, at least until he'd actually sat next Hank in Central Park. 

Then to his astonishment Hank pointedly refuse his money and his advances. Then he'd proceeded to give him a reason so that they never had to interact again if Boris had so chosen. He had known when the two weeks mark came and went without so much as a whisper from Hank Lawson that if he'd decided to stay away from him he would never see the doctor again for the rest of his life. 

Now, the idea made Boris shudder at how easily his own paranoia could have cost him Hank if the draw he'd felt to him hadn't proved to be more powerful.

“You've read his files as well, Dima,” Boris said instead of answering. “What do you make of him?”

“Too good to be true,” Dmitry said at once. Then he sighed. “But then I have told you this before.”

“Ja. And once, I would have agreed with you.”

“But not anymore.”

“Not anymore,” Boris agreed, unable to resist looking back at Hank, who was finishing up the dish he'd been brought and was clearly complimenting the taste because the sous-chef looked particularly pleased.

“Answer me this question at least, if you had to make a choice between him and _her_ , who would you pick?”

The silence between Boris and Dmitry stretched for several seconds as Boris thought. 

_Her._ Marissa. The only person he'd ever truly loved... at least until Hank. A woman who, while he would _always_ love her was no longer a part of his life. She was in his past. There was no going back for him.

“Him,” Boris finally admitted.

The sharp inhale on the other end of the line let Boris know that he'd shocked his brother. 

“Truly?” Dmitry whispered. 

“Ja.”

“Then I must meet this man. I will be at Shadow Pond in a couple of weeks once my investigations here have been concluded.”

“Dmitry–” Boris started to protest. 

“I will do this, my friend. You judgment is currently... compromised when it comes to this Hank Lawson. I will meet him and judge for myself whether or not he is worthy of your trust. And you.”

“His files do not do him justice, Dima,” Boris said softly. “He could care less for money. He is honest, courageous and compassionate, of the likes I've only met one other time in my life.”

“You have always had a weakness for that sort, but then they are rare qualities to find in one person,” Dmitry said amused yet also understanding. “Very well, I hope for your sake that this doctor of yours proves to be exactly as you say.”

Outside the window, the sous-chef had finally walked away and Hank was looking up towards Boris. His hands here on his hips and the mix of amusement and annoyance on his face said clearly that he knew exactly who to blame for the chefs that ambushed him with food throughout the day.

“He is. You will see,” Boris said, smiling down at Hank.


	2. Chapter 2

As great as it was to spend his time with Boris, Hank had never been the sort of man that felt like he had to spend every second of the day with a new romantic partner. After a few days of having settled into Shadow Pond, Hank was feeling better than he'd had since he'd arrived. Since he was also –hopefully– looking good enough to avoid a lecture about taking better care of himself (he'd gotten too many as it was, unsurprisingly most had been from Evan), Hank called up Jill Casey for a lunch date. 

His friend had been enthusiastic when he got a hold of her in the morning and agreed to meet him that afternoon. 

Since Hank didn't have a car, because his SAAB convertible was still in storage, he had to be driven by one of Boris' men when he headed out. Frankly, Hank thought it was lucky that he'd managed to talk Boris out of assigning him two bodyguards as well as the driver, Anton. He'd only really won that particular discussion by reminding Boris that no one really knew him in the Hamptons, other than Jill. And having two big, burly security specialists following him around would only draw unnecessary attention. Hank was much safer being dismissed as another anonymous summer tourist than anything else.

“Hank!”

Hank looked up to see Jill striding towards him, the skirt of her green dress flaring over her knees with her long strides. He stood up, pushing back the chair of the outside patio of the restaurant which Jill had recommended and caught her in a hug. 

“It's so good to see you!” Jill said, as she tightened her arms around him. They held each other for a long second before they split apart again, still grasping each others' shoulders

“You too! Wow, I don't think I've seen you in a dress since the first day we met. You look great,” Hank said, smiling at her.

Jill released him to twirl around, grinning. “Yeah, whenever I'm not working and covered in sweat, I do clean up nice, don't I?”

Hank laughed agreeably, earning himself a dimpled grin. They sat down on the chair opposite each other of the small white table, as Jill cocked her head and scrutinized him intently. 

“What?” Hank asked warily after a minute.

“You look better than I expected, considering how much Charlie was freaking out over you,” she said, her eyes flickering over him. Hank flushed. Jill added in dismay, “Although, I can see why he did. You're way too skinny.” 

Hank groaned and hid his face in his hands. “Not you too,” he protested. He dropped his hands back onto the table. “Everyone keeps saying that,” he grumbled. 

“Well, we wouldn't be saying it if it wasn't true,” she said unsympathetically. She reached out to him, resting her hand lightly on his wrist and her brow furrowed in concern as she searched his eyes. “How are you?”

“Better,” he answered, smiling. At her skeptical look he added, “Really, I am. I swear.” 

Jill was a friend, and while it was possible that Charlie had told her the details of what had been going on with him, Hank wasn't exactly comfortable about sharing it with her. She was a friend but not that kind of close friend. Hank hadn't even managed to tell Evan about what had happened, or how its affect at him had brought him back home, only explaining his return to the States as him needing a break. The only reason he'd told Boris as much as he had was because he suspected that the other man had seen some terrible things over the course of his life. It felt less like Hank was damaging his view of the world. The idea of doing that to Evan was simply impossible. He wanted to protect his little brother from any sort of ugliness. And while Jill had seen her share of conflict, poverty and inhumanity since she started her work with her own charity, Hank wasn't inclined to add to it. He was certain she'd only see more in the months or years to come.

His nightmares were his burden to carry and his lack of appetite was his problem to solve.

“As bad as things got before I came back,” Hank admitted slowly. “They've improved a lot lately.”

“Oh?”

Hank nearly laughed at the wide-eyed curiosity on her face. 

“Is this about the person who invited you to the Hamptons? Last week, I couldn't even talk you into visiting me to save me from my brothers! I couldn't believe it when you told you were here.” 

Hank did laugh this time. “You can't convince me you aren't enjoying your visit, Jill. You spend like an hour bragging about your nephew last time we talked. It was all Luke this and Luke that.”

“I'm a proud aunt, I can't really help it,” Jill agreed with an unrepentant shrug. She clasped her hands eagerly to her chest and her eyes lit up. “Soooo, tell me about her.”

“Um. Well, first... it's a him.”

Startled, Jill blinked rapidly. “Really? I mean, I didn't know you liked men too. I've only ever seen you look at women. Oh, wow, now I feel like I should be apologizing for my assumptions.”

“Don't worry about it, I do like women. Mostly. But every once in a while... It surprises me too,” Hank admitted. He didn't exactly talk about it with people, not because he was embarrassed or ashamed, it's just that his attraction to men happened so rarely that it often startled him just as much as the people who knew him. Except Evan. His little brother had always been amazingly unfazed. Actually when Hank thought it, it worried him that he was so nonchalant. It was so un-Evan.

“So who is he?”

Hank blinked, startled back into the present with Jill. “Well... his name is Boris–”

“–Kuester von Jurges-Ratenicz,” Jill chimed in unison with Hank. Her eyes were huge. “Boris?” she whispered urgently, leaning closer. “You're dating Boris?” Her voice had gone high and squeaky in her incredulity, until she pressed her hands against her mouth to muffle herself.

“Um, yeah,” Hank said, taken aback by her reaction. He frowned, suddenly uneasy. “What is it?”

Jill's eyes remained huge. She lowered her hands to say, “Oh, my god, Hank. It's just... that was the last person in the world I was expecting.”

“Okay,” Hank said, arching his eyebrows. He tried to figure out what made the idea of him and Boris so unbelievable to her but he was stumped.

Jill flapped her hands in the air. Hank grinned because it looked like she was just a short step away from flailing like Kermit the Frog or Evan when he flipped out. “Look, I know Boris, okay. Well, I know him as much as he ever lets anyone get to know him which isn't much. He's such a private person.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And well, the few times that I've seen him at social events it's always been with women! I've never even heard _rumors_ of him being attracted to men! And trust me, I've heard a lot of different rumors about him over the years. There was a ridiculous shark one at one point.”

“Shark? What kinda shark... you know, never mind, don't tell me.” Worry draining away, Hank grinned at her. “So he doesn't date men much, you thought the same of me.”

“Yeah, but those women! They've always been models! Supermodels or lingerie models and you're a good-looking man, Hank but no one would confuse you for one of those.”

“Thanks,” Hank said dryly. “Want to beat up my ego some more? I think there's some parts that aren't bruised yet.”

Jill blushed. “Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just... I'm really, really, _really_ surprised.”

“That's really, really, really clear,” Hank teased, amused at the redness of her cheeks.

“How long have you known him?” Jill asked. “I thought I was the only person you knew in the Hamptons.”

“You are. I met him several weeks ago,” Hank said, hesitating over how much to reveal. As Jill had reminded him, Boris was a private person, Hank doubted he'd want the details of his assassination attempt to leak into the rumor mill or even only to Jill. So he decided to skip over explaining their unusual meeting. “I met him at the charity function that I covered for you. When we ran into each other again he invited me to spend the rest of the summer with him at his home.”

Jill's eyes went big again. 

“What?” Hank asked, curious at what had set her off again.

Jill fidgeted, twirling a lock of her dark hair. She let it loose as she made up her mind to ask, “This is serious, isn't it?”

Hank cocked his head in confusion. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, I've never heard of Boris entertaining a guest for longer than weekend. For him to invite you to stay for so long! It must be serious.”

Hank stared back at her. He– he hadn't thought about it like that. He'd assumed that Boris' invitation hadn't been anything special, well... in the sense that Boris had to have invited people he was interested in over to Shadow Pond before. Hank certainly hadn't realized that it was an _uncharacteristic_ thing for Boris to do. Hank wasn't disturbed by that, in fact, he was actually flattered. No, what unsettled him was that he hadn't known. 

“Hank?” Jill asked, interrupting his thoughts. She leaned closer to him. “Is it serious for you?”

“I–I don't know. I mean, I really like the guy. I care for him – a lot! – but I hadn't really thought about it,” Hank admitted, stammering. Her new questions sent his thoughts into a tailspin. “We're only just getting to know each other!”

“I've already told you that I don't know him very well,” Jill said after a moment. “But the few times I've met him outside of social events he's always been _intense._ The man rarely does anything casually.”

“It can't be serious yet,” Hank said, mostly to himself as he shook his head in disbelief. “It's been less than a week.” Not counting the time from their first meeting, which Hank honestly didn't think should count considering that a man dying of thallium poison was hardly the stuff of romance. Hank looked away from Jill and out to the ocean, populated by kayaks and surfers, and a few daring swimmers without wetsuits. “But... it has been a _great_ week.” One of the best that Hank had had in far too long.

Jill smiled brightly before it faded. “Is this a just a summer fling? Or do you want it to last longer than the summer?”

Before Hank could say anything, their waiter finally showed up to take their order. Jill rattled off her order without even looking at the menu, while Hank asked for the day's special. The waiter left them tall glasses of water and a basket full of garlic-butter biscuits.

When the waiter left, Jill shot Hank an expectant expression. “Well?”

“I don't do casual, Jill. I've never been able to. I get invested,” Hank admitted as he fiddled with the linen napkin that had been resting on the table. “But still have three months left on my contract with Doctors Without Borders, you know that.”

“I know. You're pretty happy, aren't you Hank? I know that after Nikki...” she trailed off and grimaced in apology. 

Hank waved it off before Jill could apologize aloud. As specular of a mess as his engagement had ended, he never truly regretted calling it off. Considering how little he missed her over the intervening years it was probably a good thing he'd done it then and not after the marriage.

“Yeah,” Hank said finally answering her question. Being with Boris _did_ make him happy. Maybe it was just the flush of a new relationship, but Hank enjoyed the time he spent with Boris and not just when they were in bed, although that was pretty great too. He liked how getting to know the man more and more every day. 

“I'm so happy for you. So at the end of those three months will you come back? Or will you renew your contract for another year? Do you even want to stay with the organization anymore?”

Hank stared at her feeling mental whiplash at how quickly he went from marveling at his own happy state of being to feeling uncertain and off-balance. He hadn't been entertaining those questions. He hadn't even begun to think of them. He hadn't thought he had to, at least not for a few more months. “If you'd asked me five months ago, I would've said yes, I'd renew. Now, I don't know. I'm good at it, and I help a lot of people but... lately it's becoming too much,” Hank admitted, slumping. “I'm a doctor. I can't give that up. I don't know if anyone will even hire me in the States. I was pretty much blackballed by the Gardners from practicing medicine in New York after my last job.”

Jill scowled, clearly still insulted on Hank's behalf. When she'd learned how Hank had ended up in Doctors Without Borders, she'd ranted for a good hour about the hospital administrators who gave her job description a bad name to her husband, or at least that's what Charlie had later told Hank. Charlie had also warned him to never remind her unless he wanted to set her off again, even though she wasn't a hospital administrator anymore. 

Hank just had been touched that Jill had been on his side so quickly after they'd first met and before their friendship had grown.

Jill chewed on her lower lip. “What if I have an alternative for you?” she asked slowly, her eyes distant. “I actually thought about offering it to you when I first heard you were coming to the States for the summer, but then Charlie told me how you were supposed to be resting. But if you're really serious about wanting options...”

Interested, Hank raised his head. “What kind of alternative?”

“You know I used to be the administrator for the local hospital?”

Hank nodded.

“Well before I left I'd _finally_ gotten approval to begin running a pilot program on a mobile free clinic,” Jill explained. “But it's never fully got off the ground since then because the hospital has always been understaffed or the applicants lacked experience or just didn't have the right sort of skills. You wouldn't have that problem. You'd be perfect.” Jill said enthusiastically. “And it would only be part-time, since they don't have a lot of funding. But that would be an advantage for you since it means you won't be overworked.”

“Tell me more.”

*-*-*-*

Hank was grinning as he made his way to his bedroom, or to be more precise, the room which had been given to him until he started spending all his nights with Boris. He dumped the files onto the vintage desk, pulling out a pen from the ornately carved drawers to begin filling them out. 

It had taken a phone call from Jill and an a couple of hours after lunch to get the paperwork started for the job application. The office administrator of Hamptons Heritage Hospital, who knew Jill, had been deliriously happy with his interest. Apparently it was very hard to get a doctor with enough experience to commit to an experimental program meant to last only through the summer –to take the pressure off the local hospital by providing a mobile service to Hamptons' residents since the large influx of tourists made it difficult to accommodate their needs– while only offering limited hours a week and getting assistance of only one nurse while on his rounds.

To Hank it sounded like an incredibly difficult job. It also sounded like heaven. 

He'd be a doctor with patients that, when he left them, he wouldn't need to worry whether or not he'd ever see them again, or whether they'd be murdered in the night when he could've –should've!– done something. He'd have access to the hospital full resources which meant lab results in hours instead of days or weeks. He'd have all the standard equipment without him needing to jury-rig anything, or needing to beg, borrow and steal supplies when stuff broke or ran out. And with the short hours, only five hours a day for about four days a week, even while on-call, he wouldn't be pushing himself. 

Hank wasn't an idiot and he knew his limits, although he'd been accused more than a few times of not knowing the meaning of the word. He knew that he was still recovering. He was getting better but the nightmares hadn't faded entirely. Even with Boris providing a comforting presence in the night he rarely made it to six hours of sleep and he had yet to hit the full eight. And while he'd gained a little weight in the past few days, from the incessant application of snacks from the kitchens of Shadow Pond (and he knew exactly who to blame for that), he was hardly back to his baseline and his appetite was barely awake. He wasn't experiencing hunger pangs, so it was too easy to go eight hours without eating something. And it wasn't a physical ailment, every test he'd run on himself had come back negative, making it psychological. By working it would be remarkably easy to backslide on the progress he'd made so far, Hank knew that. The benefit of the short shifts meant that he'd be able to be a doctor without risking his own health and endangering his patients by being less than in top form.

Hank _wanted_ this so badly. The job description fit him so well it might as well have been tailor made for his skills and interests.

A doctor who made house calls. How amazing was that? How great would it be to _be_ that doctor?

And it would a good way to keep his hands busy. Boris had taken the week off to be with him but, as he'd explained to Hank, his business needs meant that he could be locked in his office for several hours at a time conducting phone calls and video conferences and that occasionally he'd be taking the helicopter to the city for a couple of days at a time when he had no other option than to show up in person. Even trips out of the country weren't out of the picture, although Boris did say he usually didn't take those during the summer. 

Hank wasn't going to spend that time rattling around in an empty house with nothing to do but read his medical journals and stare at the gardens. However nice the gardens were, it just wasn't in his nature to be idle.

Hank had made certain to fully disclose his troubles when he'd talked to the hospital administrator, not wanting to get either of them in legal trouble if he didn't. The guy had been pretty understanding –he'd been in the Army he'd told Hank– only wanting Hank to be checked out by one of their doctors before everything was finalized. Which is why Hank was focused on filling out the application paperwork to have it in and processed by the morning.

*-*-*-*

Boris was feeling more than a little impatient and irritated. He'd been waiting at the table out in French garden for Hank so that they could begin their dinner, as had been their habit for the last few days only to have Hank leave him waiting. 

Compounding his feelings of neglect, was the lingering stress of the tension and worry he'd felt for nearly half an hour when he realized that Hank had been gone for far too long for his lunch with Jill Casey. Then when he had tried to contact him on his cellphone, Hank hadn't answered. The only reason that Boris hadn't panicked was that he'd been able to get a hold of Anton, a man Boris had trusted as Hank's driver. Anton had told him that Hank was unharmed and that he'd chosen to make an unscheduled stop to the local hospital, which is why they were overdue to return. 

Now it had been almost two hours since Anton had brought him back and Boris had yet to see Hank. So he was not in any sort of amicable mood when Hank came through the doors from within Shadow Pond with a wide grin on his face. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Hank said apologetically, as he slid into the chair across from Boris. “I lost track of time. I've got great news.”

Boris' didn't smile back. His hands were interlaced before him and his mouth was a flat line as he watched Hank.

Hank stilled, and the smile wavered off his face. “What's wrong?” Concern flashed across his face. “What happened?”

“You didn't return after your lunch with Ms. Casey,” Boris said tightly. 

“Yeah,” Hank said, cocking his head with curiosity written across his expression. “I had to make another stop.”

“You also didn't answer your phone.”

“I turned it off when I stopped by the hospital. Cell signals can mess with equipment, I must have forgotten to switch it back on,” Hank explained, frowning. “Boris, what is this about?”

“I have enemies, Hank,” Boris explained, irrationally becoming angrier and angrier at Hank's lack of understanding as well as for his casual disregard for his own safety. Did he not know the numerous terrible events which could have taken place? Or how vulnerable he made both of them when with his carelessness? If Hank was harmed... “I couldn't get a hold of you and you refused to take bodyguards. I thought–!” Boris cut himself off as his voice began to rise. He took a breathe and managed to bring his voice back under tight control. “That won't happen again. You _will_ take them whenever you leave Shadow Pond.”

“What? No!” Hank shook his head. His eyes snapped with blue fire, as he raised his chin and pulled his shoulders back. “Listen, Boris, I understand that there are people that want to hurt you, okay. I get that.”

“Clearly you don't.”

Stubbornly, Hank insisted, “I do, because I've _seen_ the results of them trying to kill you, firsthand. But I'm not going to take guards with me whenever I go. It's not me. I've lived in dangerous situations for the last three years. I've had more guns and knives pulled on me that I can count and I've been shot at a few times. I can handle myself.” Hank leaned close, he was only a few inches away from Boris. His voice and expression softened as he said, “I need you to trust that not only can take care of you but that I can also take care of myself.”

Boris' hands dropped to his sides, as he was taken aback by idea that Hank thought he had to be the one to take care of him. Boris was the one with the resources, with the money, guards, and connections and Hank thought that Boris was _his_ responsibility? Thoroughly bewildered by the thought, Boris' anger began to drain away.

This man, this extraordinary, frustrating, exasperating and remarkable man... Boris hadn't thought it was possible to become even more enthralled with Hank than he'd already was.

Hank must have seen his demeanor soften for his smile returned, wide and brilliant. Hank said gently, teasingly, “Anyway... those guys are great but they would probably scare my patients.”

“Patients?” Boris repeated, still thrown. 

Hank nodded and threw himself into an enthusiastic explanation of where he'd gone, and why he'd been late to their dinner. 

Later that evening, Boris would think that he could have handled the news in a much more dignified fashion if he hadn't spent part of the day picturing various terrifying, heart-stopping scenarios involving what his enemies could do to Hank or to him by taking Hank as a hostage and how much he'd give to have him returned. Receiving the news that Hank would be spending significant time away from the secure walls of Shadow Pond was like jet fuel on the embers of his dying temper. It only flared up hotter than before.

Simply put, Boris' emotions got the better of him.

And so their second, and much louder, argument of the evening began and ended in minutes with both men furiously leaving the untouched dinner behind to cool in the darkening evening. And they settled into their respective rooms, away from each other, before either said anything that they'd regret and risked damaging their nascent relationship beyond repair.

*-*-*-*

Hank paced, moving furiously back and forth of the entire span of the bedroom he'd been initially given. He seethed as he walked, calling Boris by several nasty names of which the kindest was pigheaded.

“Argh!” Hank growled and sprawled back first onto the queen-sized bed, sinking into the comforter. The bed felt too wide and empty compared to the one he'd been sharing with Boris. He stayed like that for several minutes before he sighed and sat up, rubbing at his temples where the beginnings of a headache was starting to pound. He pressed several pressure points hoping to head it off before it grew into something that needed medication as he thought about the mess that had become of the evening.

Hank didn't like to think of himself of being the kinda guy who held onto his anger unless the reasons justified it, so he took a deep breathe and tried to let it go. Because as much as he was certain that Boris was overreacting Hank hadn't lied when he said he understood where Boris was coming from. All of Boris' anger had come from fear. Hank has seen it in, barely hidden on the other man's face. He recognized it because he'd seen such fear before on the faces of so many others whose loved ones were in danger or dying.

Boris had been feeling the same thing _for_ Hank.

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? Jill's question about whether or not his relationship with Boris was serious came back to haunt him. Because it looked like he'd underestimated how deeply Boris had come to care for him in such a short span of time. The way that Boris had reacted...

But then they hadn't talked about their relationship, had they? Hank had been enjoying having a romantic partner again and actually having sex with someone he liked and cared for more often than once in blue moon. He didn't stop to ask if he and Boris were on the same page emotionally speaking. He probably should've because it seemed that Boris was further ahead than he was. Mix that in with what Boris had so haltingly shared about his father's family, and their tendency to tear at anything or anyone he showed an interest in no wonder Boris was so protect–

The rest Hank's train of thought was derailed by a firm knock on the door.

Eagerly, Hank opened it and froze for a split second at the sight of Valentina, the sous-chef who usually delivered his hourly snacks. Hank was disappointed. He'd been really hoping it'd be Boris. 

“Hello, Valentina,” he said, struggling to smile in welcome. He suspected it came off as distinctly forced and fake.

“Cena. Dinner. You did not eat, Hank,” she said, hesitantly with a thick Italian accent. She gestured to the rolling cart beside her. “So I bring to you.” 

Hank winced, clearly the entire staff was aware of the argument he'd had with their boss. “Grazie,” Hank said, in answer the expectant expression on Valentina's anxious face.

She smiled and pushed the cart into his room. She set up the food onto the small table by the window and bustled out the door, letting him know another of the staff would be by to collect the empty plates in an hour or so, with words interposed in Italian, leaving only with a loud, emphatic order of, “Eat!”

Hank stared at the gently steaming dishes, knowing that he should have dinner but not feeling any kind of appetite or urge to even try. Not when he was so distracted by thinking of what he'd say to Boris next time he saw him. 

Flattening himself back onto the bed, Hank tried to think of what he could do or say to get Boris to understand how fundamental it was for him to be a doctor and help people. He didn't want to argue. All he wanted was for Boris to understand where _he_ was coming from. The man had done an extensive background check on him, Hank had thought that he would've already known. 

But maybe that was part of the problem. Hank had become so used to Boris already knowing so many details about his life that he hadn't really been sharing much about himself having been much more fascinated to learn about Boris. In the last week it wasn't like Hank had ever talked to other man about how important it was him to be a doctor and help make people better. Boris may have the cold facts about Hank's life, but he had no idea of Hank's feelings. He had an outsider's perspective on Hank's life. 

Hank hadn't even mentioned Evan since the first day. He actually had to let Boris know his side of things, especially if he wanted their relationship to work out. And he did, he really did.

Determined to find a way but not being able to think of anything that second, Hank reached for the last of the paperwork that he hadn't finished filling out because he'd realized he'd been late and set about finishing his application.

*-*-*-*

When Hank walked out of the house to join him for breakfast even before he was close Boris noted the circles under his eyes. The signs of insomnia which had faded to nearly nothing over the last few days had returned. The circles were not yet as deep as they'd been before, but they more blatant than Boris had seen only last morning. 

Boris was certain that he was wearing similar signs of his own restless night upon his face. He lowered the German newspaper he'd been reading, neatly folding it down to set it beside his plate as Hank sat across from him. They stared at each other in silence for a beat before each looked away.

They were both stubborn and prideful men, Boris acknowledged dryly to himself as the silence stretched out for several uncomfortable minutes without either of them breaking it.

The conversation he'd had with Dmitry last night resurfaced in Boris' mind. Initially, Boris had called for an update on the investigation his brother was conducting on his behalf only to slip into expressing his frustration over Hank when Dmitry had noticed and asked after his tensed voice. Dima had then proceeded to laugh uproariously when Boris had provided further details. Because it seemed, as he'd explained between mocking chuckles, that the sort of person Boris found himself enamored with were always the sort that wouldn't bend to his demands, or be intimidated by his anger, wealth or power.

That Boris had no one to blame but himself for his peculiar tastes in fearless, stubborn partners.

Then, to his additional disgruntlement, Dima sided with Hank's position. He'd reminded Boris, in an unnecessarily sarcastic tone, that he was forgetting that Hank had lived and worked in the middle of some of the most dangerous places in the world and had come through them, in not completely unscathed, at least relatively intact. If Hank had managed that, without Boris to provide for his protection, then it was doubtful he had much need of it now while in the much safer streets of the Hamptons. Boris had growled at Dmitry, called him useless and had hung up while his brother resumed laughing.

Which left Boris now contemplating the possibility that Dima had a point. Boris had no tactic, or leverage, to convince Hank to accept the validity of his concerns. As yesterday evening had proved, Hank didn't even consider himself to have any need of Boris' protection. If they were both unwilling to bend then their current impasse threatened to continue indefinitely. A state of affairs which Boris could not abide much longer with Hank so easily within arm's reach. Boris had barely been able to tolerate his empty bed the previous night, only doing so out of his own anger and injured pride.

As soon as the kitchen staff served breakfast and moved out of earshot, Boris decided it was on him to commence the peace talks, or at least the first round. He cleared his throat. Noncommittally, he said, “You went to the hospital this morning.”

Hank's blue eyes flickered back at him. His expression was blank although he stiffened as if bracing himself for another fight. “I was up so I'd figured I might as well drop off my application.”

“You did not sleep...” Boris murmured. He couldn't help but feel guilty of the thought of Hank suffering alone. “Your nightmares–” 

Hank was already shaking his head. “It wasn't that. I stayed up all night. I was thinking.”

“I see,” Boris said, settling back on his chair. “Please... I would like to hear your thoughts, Hank.”

Hank rubbed at the back of his neck, uncertainty on his face. “I was thinking about a lot of things. I kinda wish I'd made a list,” he admitted with a self-deprecating huff of amusement. Fearlessly, Hank's eyes met Boris' own. “But I guess the most important one is... about us. I realized that I didn't have a clue of what you expect from me. Or where _we_ are going. I mean, I've been here a week and you're already telling me that I have to have bodyguards. Which kinda tells me that you're already in pretty deep, but... I don't think I am.”

Any words that Boris had been of thinking of saying turned to ashes in his mouth. A possibility that he hadn't contemplated broadsided him with the impact of a train. In his worry and anxiety over losing Hank to his enemies Boris had forgotten to take into the account the all to real possibility that he could lose Hank through his own actions. They had made no promises to each other. Boris had no sort of acknowledged claim on Hank's heart nor any sort of hold to keep the man should he chose to end their relationship. 

His enemies could take no action to strike against him whatsoever and Boris could still lose him.

“Hank,” Boris finally managed, his usual calm demeanor shattered by the agony of that possibility.

Hank's compassion was ever present, for he wrapped his hand around Boris' right hand and squeezed reassuringly before he continued, “Hey, I really like you, Boris. I think we have a lot in common. I like how I'm getting to know you better and better everyday. I don't want to stop. I've never been the kind of guy who does short-term relationships. I really want to see where this will go, even when we don't agree on things.”

Boris grasped at Hank's hands. Perhaps too tightly for comfort but the other man didn't protest. 

Boris thought, _My feelings for you are beyond such meager terms as liking you._ Yet he could not admit them aloud. “I care for you greatly,” he finally managed, yet still the words felt inadequate. 

“Yeah, I know,” Hank said softly. There was an understanding light in his sky blue eyes, as if he knew the real depths of emotion which Boris carried in his heart and kindly chose not to mention them. “I also don't want us to keep fighting. So I talked to Caliel. I wanted to get...well, a second opinion from an expert.”

Boris frowned and silently wondered whether he'd have to replace his security chief. “What did Caliel say?” he asked warily. 

“He didn't go into details but he explained that you get death threats nearly every day and that just this year alone you've had two serious kidnapping attempts,” Hank said, his brow furrowed. A fiercely protective expression flashed across his face.

Boris nodded. Gently, he said, “There are not many places in the world where I can walk safely without a team of security specialists as much as I wish it otherwise. My wealth makes me a target even without taking into account... family politics. Even here at Shadow Pond, my complete safety cannot be one-hundred percent guaranteed.”

“Yeah,” Hank said somberly. “You weren't wrong, last night, when you said that I didn't understand. At least, not the whole picture. So I thought we could come to a compromise.”

“What do you propose?”

“No one really knows why I'm in the Hamptons, other than my brother, Jill, and your employees,” Hank explained. “And until I actually told Jill, even she didn't know I was here with you. So I still think that my anonymity is the best defense.”

“So you said before.” Boris understood Hank's reasoning, even if he didn't care for it, it seemed to be relying on the fickleness of fate. His strict policy of maintaining his privacy, and conducting thorough background checks on his staff meant that none of his people would casually gossip about him with outsiders. But as Dieter's betrayal had so starkly reminded him, none one was beyond being bribed to go against him. 

Boris reminded Hank in clipped, terse words of this. 

Hank looked unhappy, then determined. “I know, it's not a perfect defense but nothing really can be. So I was thinking that it would be better for me to have one bodyguard. And only if the man is willing to work undercover.”

“Undercover?” Boris asked, his eyebrows arched, as he contemplated the thought yet intrigued despite himself. The security specialists tasked with his safety went out of their way to be visible. They wore black suits with body armor underneath, radios in their ears, and guns holsters at their hips and under their arms. That they were dangerous was all but written on their persons. Their visibility was as much a deterrent as their former military training and larger than average body types.

“Yeah, I talked to Caliel to see if he had any guys who were medically certified and who'd also be willing to do that kind of work,” Hank said. “And I talked to Raoul, the hospital administrator, if it would be okay for me to have extra help as long as it wasn't paid for by the hospital. He said it'd require some extra paper work but it should be fine. Of course, it this depends on me actually ending getting hired.” 

“That is a rather neat solution,” Boris admitted, after turning the thought over and over in his head. A bodyguard that wouldn't be immediately apparent as a bodyguard did have some drawbacks, as well as some unexpected advantages. Including how any attacker would be caught off-guard by a hidden security specialist masquerading as a civilian. And while Boris was not wholly pleased at the idea of Hank with only one, instead of the two bodyguards he'd initially wanted, he was willing to conceded to Hank's proposal. Especially when Boris considered Hank's earlier determination to not have any assigned to oversee his safety at all. 

He didn't wish to return to the previous night's uncomfortable stalemate. His bed had felt larger and colder than Boris knew it to be without Hank.

“Yeah, I thought so. I don't want to fight over this,” Hank said as his expression softened.

“I do have one amendment,” Boris said. Hank cocked his head to the side in silent query. “Should Caliel discover that your security needs to be increased then you will agree to it.”

“If he says I really need it? We'll talk about it,” Hank said firmly. “But I promise to listen.”

Aware that he'd gotten as much of a concession as he could manage from today – and with Dima's phantom laughter ringing in his ears– Boris raised their interlocked fingers to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of one of Hank's hands, in silent agreement.

“Speaking of talking,” Hank continued, his cheeks flushed pink. “I also wanted to explain why this job is important. I realized I'd never told you before why being a doctor matters so much to me. I know you've read up on my history, but I wanted to explain it to you... in my own words.”

Boris had a good grasp as to why Hank's career as a doctor was so important to him for Dima's investigators had been thorough, but he was still fascinated to hear it from Hank's own lips. He leaned forward. “Ja, I would very much like to hear it, Hank.”

“My mother was sick for a long time before she died. I was still pretty young when it first started...”


	3. Epilogue

Hank pulled Boris into bed. The other man chuckled and settled down next to him, wrapping his arms around Hank's waist and pulling close to him. Hank bit back another yawn and burrowed into Boris' side, enjoying his warmth and cologne. Some part of him he hadn't even realized had been a knot of tension for the whole morning finally unraveled. Several hours of interview at the hospital had completely worn him out. Adding on top of that, he hadn't slept very well. Even with Boris providing a soothing presence _and_ joking that Hank didn't have to work considering as he could provide more than enough to meet any lifestyle Hank chose to indulge. 

At least, Hank thought it was a joke.

“I think I'm getting old,” he mumbled, nearly inaudibly against the side of Boris' neck. Hmm... he kissed it because...well, it was there. “I have you in bed, nearly naked–” his hands wandered from where they'd been grasping Boris' very firm glutei maximi (Boris was in amazing shape for his age) to tug at the band of Boris' boxer-briefs. “– and all I want to do is take a nap.”

Boris' low laugh made his chest vibrate in a really great way. Hank lifted his head up to catch that smile against his mouth. They kissed for several minutes, slow and lingering. The heat of the kiss spread through out Hank's body like warm honey, relaxing his muscles and making him sleepier. 

“Close your eyes, Hank.” Boris said gently. His broad hand rubbed at the nape of Hank's neck, before cradling the back of Hank's head, his fingers pressing slow, firm circles into his scalp. “Sleep. I will remain by your side for as long as you need.”

Hank's eyes drifted closed. Absently, he couldn't help but think that he'd become spoiled rotten. Boris had spoiled him. When he had to leave Shadow Pond to finish his contract with Doctors Without Borders, he was certain that he wouldn't be sleeping half so well even when his nightmares finally stopped affecting him so much. Hank didn't expect them to ever fade away. After all, they were memories as well as nightmares.

“Do you have to be anywhere?” Hank managed around another yawn. As selfishly as he wanted him with him, he was willing to let Boris go to conduct his business, although Hank really didn't want to.

“According to my schedule, I'm free until four o'clock but I can always rescheduled.”

“Good,” Hank said muttered. “Because I have plans for you when I wake up.”

“I look forward to them,” Boris said, his voice low and sexy. 

It followed Hank into his dreams.

*-*-*-*

Waking up to the feel of a beard rubbing lightly against the sensitive skin of his neck was still a novel experience, in Hank's opinion. But over the last week, for nearly every morning after Boris woke up and followed through on his promise to help Hank work up an appetite with some really good sex, Hank had been conditioned to start getting hard at the sensation, especially when it was dispersed with the softer kisses, gentle bites and the firm press of Boris' hands against his skin.

“Boris,” Hank sighed sleepily. 

“My apologies, Hank. I could no longer resist the temptation.” 

“Hey, I'm not complaining.” Hank creaked his eyelids open and smiled up at Boris with what he'd suspected was a really dopey smile if he hadn't been too content to care. “What time is it?” he asked, looking at the sunlight streaming through the large windows of the large bedroom and noting the fall of the shadows. It looked like it was well into the afternoon.

“It's a quarter past 2 o'clock. You slept for nearly 3 hours.”

“Hey, not bad for a nap,” Hank said, and rolled them both so that he was looking down at Boris' amused expression. 

“Hank.”

Hank grinned. “I think I mentioned that I have plans for you.”

“Ja, you did,” Boris agreed in a serious tone, although the crinkles around his eyes deepened. “I spent the last hour waiting in anticipation of said plans. My imagination is vivid.”

Hank kissed him, taking advantage of his position to press his groin to Boris' own, feeling the other man's growing interest. The knock at the bedroom door made them both pause and stared at each other, incredulous at the interruption. 

“Not now,” Boris called out, annoyance thick in his voice. 

“My apologies, sir. But there is a young man at the gate for Mr. Lawson.”

Hank raised his head, looking towards the closed door. Boris' hands tightened on Hank's waist.

“Who is it?” Hank asked, curious and annoyed in equal measure. 

“He said his name is Evan R. Lawson.”

Hank groaned, shifted over to sprawl on his back next to Boris and plopped a hand over his face. “Evan,” he muttered, barely audible. He groaned again and shifted his hand down his face to peer at Boris. “My brother.” Hank sat up. “Give us a minute,” Hank called out to the waiting staff. He turned to Boris. “I'm going to kill him.”

“I would support any action you saw fit,” Boris said magnanimously. “Although, fratricide seems a bit excessive.”

Hank snorted in amusement, and climbed out of the wide bed, shooting the lounging naked Boris a longing look before grabbing his clothes. Various ways to make Evan suffer went through his mind. As he dressed, he wondered how quickly and how big of a spider could he find before the day was over.

“He is invited to stay if he likes,” Boris offered, as Hank finished getting dressed. 

“Um... thanks,” Hank said, torn between gratitude and dismay at the thought of Evan at Shadow Pond. He loved his brother but he was about as subtle as bull in a China shop when it came to wealth, power and status. Pretty much, Hank expected him to swoon and man-crush on Boris until Hank was completely embarrassed over his behavior. Then Hank would be forced to start claiming he was an only child.

“He can have the guesthouse,” Boris explained.

“Yeah, that's great idea,” Hank said, enthused at keeping Evan and Boris apart as much as possible at least until he could be certain Evan wouldn't act like groupie meeting their rock-star crush. He leaned over to kiss Boris. Only to linger as Boris' hands braced his jaw, sliding to the back of his head. Hank's hands braced on Boris' bare chest and his fingers curled involuntary to feel the hairs on Boris' pectorals.

It took every bit of willpower Hank had to break away from the kiss. He pressed his forehead against Boris' own. 

“Are you not going to welcome your brother?” Boris asked softly as Hank didn't move. He slid his broad hands down Hank's back, shattering Hank's self-control beyond recovery.

“Screw it,” Hank said and crawled back into bed. Boris welcomed him without hesitation, pulling Hank atop him. “Evan showed up without being invited. He can wait.”

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, as long as this fic grew the plan is still to add at least one more fic to this series. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed it!


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